Golden Leaves
by Gre3nleaf
Summary: Rumplestiltskin is the Dark One. He's powerful, dangerous, and definitely not the parent-kind. But, when a knock on his door one night interrupts his yearly mourning of Baelfire, and he finds a child on his doorstep… well. He may just have to change these qualities about him. Especially the last one.
1. Chapter 1

**Golden Leaves**

**A/N: OUAT timelines aren't totally clear, so I'm not too sure when exactly Belle made her deal with Rumple and he took her to his castle, but I've made it seven years before the first curse is hit in the Enchanted Forest. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Three hundred and eleven years, my boy."

The soft glow from the candle warmed his face as he stared sullenly, dark eyes swelling for a moment with pure memory and grief. Silence enveloped him like a welcoming blanket while the wind howled past his windows like a wolf attempting to get inside his prey's lair. It wasn't unsettling. He couldn't care less about unsettlement.

Standing straight, a short sigh left his lips, and he felt himself slowly deflating, as though everything he had felt in the past year – every pang of pain, every hint of loneliness, every _emotion_ – was finally floating away in this rare moment of vulnerability. It happened each year, though he wasn't sure why. Perhaps it was because the _feelings_ that accompanied lighting that candle made his brick wall collapse.

It was when he noticed the wetness in his eyes that he angrily sucked in a breath and wiped harshly at them. Another thing that came with lighting that candle. He steeled his expression and swallowed thickly before stepping away from it, watching as it flickered in the slight breeze.

He supposed he truly must have a heart somewhere inside that chest of his, for it almost leapt to his throat at the sound of a loud and resounding knock at the door. Eyes wide and fists balling, he stared at the exit to the large room, leading onto the hallway which ended at the door. His head snapped to the side, assuring himself that it really was _the middle of the night_ and someone was _knocking_ _on_ _his_ _door_, before he gritted his teeth and snapped his fingers in irritation, teleporting himself straight to his front door. He did not care who it was who had interrupted the one night he was _not_ to be interrupted on; there _would_ be consequences.

The large door to his mansion swung open at his command, and he strode forward, half expecting some armed band of villagers to be stood there, shouting words of vengeance for something or other he'd done in his life. Nevertheless, he was quite surprised to find that he did in fact have to dip his head slightly to see who it was on his doorstep. He visibly recoiled, stepping back and raising his fists to his chest as an all but nonplussed look crossed his face.

"Please help me." The little girl – because that's what it was… he _thought_ – brought her tattered bear up to her face, absently nuzzling at its ragged fur with her button nose while gazing up at him with big blue eyes. Her voice was soft, almost squeaky, and he blinked, looking around quickly to ensure this was no trap.

"_Help_ you?" he finally managed to say, tone not too soft at all. "With _what_?"

She was a little thing, barely taller than his knees, but a pretty little thing all the same; that much he could see. Her feet were placed firmly only a few steps in front of his door, but she didn't look as though she was about to turn and run if he moved closer. In fact, she didn't look scared at _all_… not of _him_, at least. Tears were clinging to her long eyelashes and silvery trails running down her cheeks were evident in the moonlight. Her red hair was altogether tousled, hanging in a loose braid down her back, and a cloak which looked far too big for her was wrapped tightly around her shoulders, hugged to her – quite likely _freezing_ – body.

"I…" She sniffed. "My mama and papa… they're gone." The last words were nothing but a whisper, but years of avid listening to deals and threats and curses and the like were an advantage, and he heard them clearly.

Frowning, he leaned forward, an almost-jeer on his dark face. "And what do you expect _me_ to do about _that_?"

His sharp vision caught sight of those already glassy eyes welling with further tears. "The- the people in my village say- _said_ that you help those who come to you."

The slip-up in tense didn't pass his notice, and he regarded it with subtle curiosity before stepping forward and leaning further down. He was slightly uneasy when she didn't make a move to get away. "I don't _help_ people, dearie. _Go_ _home_." And, with that, he turned on his heel and raised his arm in order to shut the door.

"_Wait_, Rumplestiltskin!" He stopped abruptly at the feeling of someone tugging on his jacket, and spun around to face the little girl, her eyes wide with terror. "I don't _have_ a home," she told him, still clutching his jacket. "Not anymore. Someone… someone _destroyed_ it! I was collecting berries in the forest nearby, but when I came back, all- all the houses were on fire! And- and the cattle is d-dead, and the _people_… are all over the _village_… they're _all_ dead! And I couldn't find my mama or papa! I looked all over, b-but they're not _there_!" She released him in favour of grabbing her teddy with both hands and burying her face into its stomach, chest heaving with each sob.

Quite unsure of what to do, he visibly grimaced. _One_ click of his fingers… _one_ _click_ and she would be _gone_. "Oh, don't _cry_," he fussed, irritation clear as the sky was dark, "I can't have _children's_ _tears_ on my doorstep."

Blue eyes peeked up at him from over the stuffed toy. She sniffed. "I want to make a deal with you."

A dark eyebrow rose. "I can't bring your parents back, girl."

"W-why not?" Her voice was trembling, and he mentally prepared himself for another breakdown.

"Because I can't."

"But-"

"Cease your babbling before I turn you into a mouse!" he ordered, intonation rising just enough for her to snap her quivering lips shut and stare up at him obediently. He watched her, waiting to ensure she wasn't going to interrupt him before he spoke yet again. "I can't resurrect people," he said, lowering his arm. "It's not within my power to do so, and even if it _was_, what would a little _mite_ like you have to give me that would be worth _my_ time?"

At this, she moved her teddy away from her face and reached into the pocket of her torn dress. "I… have my grammy's ring," she told him, taking it out and lifting it for him to see. "She gave it to me before she died when I was six."

The innocence of her proclamation did nothing to sway him, and he scoffed not a second later. "I have no interest in riches," he informed her, "and I have no interest in _you_. Good bye!" He turned, all too ready to seriously close the door on her this time, but yet again he was stopped by the little hands grabbing onto his clothes.

"Wait!" she said, panic swimming in her voice. "_Please_, wait! I have nowhere else to go!" The fury in his eyes was monstrous when he turned to face her, but one look at her little red face, rosy in the icy wind, eyes wet and streaming with fresh tears, somehow caused a lump to rise in his throat. God _damn_ that lump. He hadn't felt it since the moment he'd let go of Bae and watched him, absolutely powerless, as he fell into the portal. And he realised with a terror in his _heart_, that it was because he knew, _deep_ down, somewhere in whatever soul he had left, that it was because he was seconds away from leaving a child alone. _Again_.

And that spark of doubt was what caused him to reach down, grasp the girl's shoulder, and teleport both him and her back into his dining room. She stumbled upon arrival, breathing heavily, and quickly set to snapping her head around in realisation of her new surroundings. He, meanwhile, stepped back, watching her carefully, not too entirely sure on what he'd just done.

"Do you have anything of your parents' on you?" he asked immediately. She looked at him for a moment, blinking like a doe, before swallowing nervously and shaking her head a little apprehensively.

"N-no," she stuttered, clutching her bear to her chest.

He pursed his lips. "Nothing? No… clothing that belonged to them? A piece of _string_?"

Again, she shook her head. "Why?"

"For a _locator_ spell to work it needs something of the person it is loca_ting_," he told her, moving his hands as though he was explaining the most obvious thing in the world. He walked towards the large table in the middle of the room before swivelling at the last moment and pointing a finger at her. "Did your house burn?"

Her eyes pooled with tears at the thought of her village, but she bit them back and took in a shuddery breath before replying. "A little," she said with a soft shrug. "But I put it out with water from the well… I went inside and they weren't there, and I looked all over the rest of the village… I found everyone else, just… _not_ _them_."

"Good!" he said with a clap of his hands, and the girl frowned, wondering if he'd even heard the second part to what she'd said. "Then tomorrow we shall go to your house, find something of your parents', perform the blasted spell and get you out of my hair."

"Tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly.

In all honesty, he would have liked to get the child away from him as quickly as possible, but he knew it was not the night for sudden spells and overthinking. He was still attempting to make sense of the fact that she had come to _him_ for help. _Surely_ she had heard he was the Dark One and could incinerate her in seconds if he so wished? Of course, the nearest village to him that he believed she'd come from could be seen from the top floor of the house, therefore he really wasn't all too far away, but there must have been other houses she could've gone to.

"Yes, tomorrow," he said. "It's… too dark out for me to effectively perform my spell." Looking intently at the girl for a moment, he narrowed his eyes in thought. "What do you eat?" he asked.

She blinked, perplexed. "Uh… food? Like you, I guess… that is- if you don't eat children."

Ah, so she _had_ heard he was the Dark One. Raising both eyebrows, he pivoted around and swept his arm outwards, magicking a large banquet of food up on the table. He turned his head slightly to gauge the child's reaction without making it obvious that he cared, and was surprisingly content to find her eyes alight with awe as she rushed forward, leaning against the table while darting those blues along the array of the food he believed a child might like. Of course, the majority of that was indeed _sugar_, but it had been a _long_ while since he'd last had to _feed_ a _child_.

She looked over at him as though silently asking his permission to eat, and he just about refrained from rolling his eyes in an obvious _"well, I didn't make it for my_self_, now, _did_ I?" _Instead, he settled with a half-hearted shrug before moving over to the small table at the far end of the room. The sounds of her munching quite happily on the food he'd laid out filled the hall not a moment later. At least she wasn't crying.

The candle was still burning. Wax was melting, dripping down and onto the gold holder and mat beneath it, and he couldn't help but simply stare at it a moment, the firelight dancing in the reflection of his eyes, which had dimmed. The sound of a thud caused him to look up, and he saw the girl move her chair back to reach down and pick up the teddy she'd dropped, hugging it to her chest once she'd done so. He frowned, eyebrows knitting together. Concern. What he was concerned about, he wasn't sure, but he could feel it. Maybe he was concerned for himself. Maybe the child. He _had_, after all, thought on the fact that just because her parents weren't in the village, it didn't mean they were still _alive_.

Was that unsettlement?

Shaking his head free of his thoughts, he clenched his fists before leaning down and blowing the candle out.


	2. Chapter 2

There were many things he had been blamed for over his years, and in nearly all of them he could accept that blame. But there had only been one thing that he could accept the blame for and actually feel _guilty_ for what he had done at the same time.

_This_ made two.

He knew it all led back to him. Nothing else could have caused a destruction such as this. And though he knew he hadn't done it personally… he had given _her_ their names. But who was he to know they had been the girl's parents?

The Dark One had woken the child up in the way too oversized bed in his attic that morning at precisely seven, thought to himself how strange it was that _a child was sleeping in the way too oversized bed in his attic, _and teleported both him and her a little way from the village, aware that it was likely still too dangerous for them to get close immediately. Sure enough, the smell of burning _everything_ filled his nose as soon as they arrived, and he wrinkled it in disgust, noticing the girl pull her cloak up to cover her lower face in the corner of his eye. The village was in front of them, and though most of the houses had turned to blackened wood and ash, there were a few still standing, only licked by the flames. The whole place was as silent as the night, and a feeling of dread hung over them. Funny thing, really, considering the amount of times he'd been around death.

It was only when he turned his head down to ask the child if she was ready to move closer that he noticed she was missing, and when he snapped it back up, he saw her rushing off towards the village. An image rose to his mind of a young Baelfire, maybe five or six years old, running straight over to a sleeping bear and her cubs that he had been too young to fear at the time, and without warning even to himself, he darted a hand out, his magic resulting in her freezing mid-stride. He immediately moved over to her, harshly grasping onto her forearm and shaking her once he'd withdrawn his magic. "_What_ do you think you're doing, _little lady_?" he all but roared, his face mere inches from her own. "Did your _parents_ not speak to you about racing straight into _danger_?"

Eyes wide and bright with tears, she stared up at him. His grip on her didn't waver as he continued to glare a hole into her, and she soon found her bottom lip trembling with fright at his sudden change in demeanor. He didn't notice until his dark eyes subconsciously followed a little tear as it escaped down her cheek, and, frowning, he released her arm and stepped back. She clutched her stuffed bear closer to her chest and watched him as he turned his head away from her and looked down at the ground for a short while before glancing at her briefly and motioning forward with his hands. "Walk close to me," he ordered, striding off and not bothering to check behind him to ensure she was following.

She had in fact stuck to him like a leech the whole while he walked through the houses, stepping over dead cattle and broken carts… thankfully, most of the people had apparently run to the safety of their homes before they died, or he supposed some had managed to escape, which sparked the smallest bit of hope that perhaps the girl would still have a family after all.

The guilt started to settle in more and more as he walked – or, rather, _weaved_ – through the livestock and people and objects. It was very rare that a demolition such as this happened without his help… and so he'd begun to think on his recent deals. Of which there were _many_.

There had been one woman willing to make a deal for gold… as they often were. A couple asking for help in finding their lost prized horse. He'd received a lock of the horse's mane in return for that. And then there was a man wanting a way to get back at his neighbor for something or other – he couldn't remember – and then there had been… _Regina_. Of course, he should have started with that, but Regina had made so many deals with him over her reign as Queen that he often had trouble remembering which was which. But this one… she had come to him, asking for the names of those who he'd known were harbouring Snow White. He'd given them to her – in return for something, of course – and that had been that. He hadn't known the couple. He hadn't known they'd been parents. He never did.

Obviously, the village had refused to give them up, and, Regina being Regina, had unleashed her fury on everyone. An entire village for the price of two names.

"Who are your parents?" he'd asked.

"R-Rose and Cameron. Mama makes- makes clothes and Papa fixes horseshoes," she'd replied softly.

And he'd shut his eyes, slowing his pace and wondering if he should even still pretend.

If everyone whose names had not left his lips were dead, he highly doubted the two Regina _had_ come to him for weren't. He was of course entirely capable of taking the couple back if they were indeed still alive, but Regina wouldn't be happy, and they had made a _deal_ after all. A new deal, perhaps…

"This is our house."

He stopped, turning and looking at the crumbling wooden house she was pointing at. His magic cloaked it, letting him know if it was safe to walk into – he knew it would be safe for him, but the little girl was not immortal as far as he knew – before he stepped inside, the child's soft footsteps alerting him that she wasn't far behind. "Look for something of theirs," he said. "Quickly now."

And she immediately began searching around the ruin, carefully lifting up fallen planks of wood and kicking piles of ash, all the while unaware of the Dark One's gaze following her around, wondering to himself what he was to do. He didn't often question himself, but then again, he wasn't often faced with a situation such as this.

"This is Mama's scarf." Her little voice drew him out of his thoughts, and he looked down to see her holding up a piece of tattered pink cloth. She sniffed. "And- and this is my papa's bracelet."

Despite himself, he rose an eyebrow. "Your father has a bracelet."

"He made me one, too," she said, letting him take both before rolling up her sleeve and showing him the woven strings on her wrist. "He said… as long as we both always wear it, then we'll always be t-together." He didn't reply, eyes fixed on the items in his hand, until she spoke up again. "Will they work?"

They would work… but whether or not they would result in what was desired was unknown. Yet highly unlikely. "Yes," he said. "We shall go back to my castle and I'll prepare. Is there anything you wish to take with you? I doubt the structure will hold after I remove my magic."

She looked at him for a moment before her eyes widened and she spun around, running off into a separate room. The sound of shuffling reached his ears a moment later and he waited with a patience he wasn't accustomed to for her to come back. When she did, she had a doll in her arms, clutched to her chest just like the bear. "Another toy," he said, voice monotonous. "No colouring book or pretty bows for your hair?"

She shook her head, coming to a stop in front of him and lifting her doll slightly to show him. "Mama made her for me," she told him, and his eyebrow became reacquainted with his hairline at the little knitted blue eyes and wonky red smile, auburn curls sprouting from her head and a pink dress on her woolen body. He narrowed his eyes to peer closer. A dark red leaf seemed to have been knitted into the dress. The girl, noticing his apparent interest, looked to where he was gazing and a small smile flit across her lips. "It's an autumn leaf," she told her, "for my name."

He rose a dark brow and lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Your name is Autumn?" he asked, and she nodded shyly. A nice name, he supposed. Matched the colour of her hair perfectly, though he supposed that was her parents' intention. A funny sort of feeling spiralled around his stomach at the thought of her parents.

And the guilt followed not soon after.

He physically shook himself, uncrossing his arms and walking out of the house. Autumn – he supposed he could cease calling her 'the girl', now – scrambled after him, and the moment she exited through the broken door, he swiped his magic away and did not stay to watch as the house crumbled down.

* * *

Rumplestiltskin dragged his eyes away from where he'd been watching the child – Autumn – playing with both her doll and teddy just outside the window and instead fixed them on the objects and bottle of liquid sat on the table in front of him. The liquid was indeed the locator potion, and once he poured it over the scarf and bracelet, with any luck they would float up and take him to where the couple was. If they were within Regina's walls, he was prepared to offer up another deal. That wasn't a scenario he chose to be faced with often, but he knew he was responsible for that little girl's pain, and a child's pain was something he just could not live with.

Nevertheless, if those objects didn't rise up from the table… he knew what it would be a sign of. Death. It was always death. Why was it always death?

He had not come to the conclusion on what was going to be done if that were the case, but the tiniest fragment of who he had once been still lingered in his darkened heart, as it had since he'd succumbed to the darkness, and that fragment was screaming at him to do the _right_ thing. _"This is _your_ fault, therefore _your_ responsibility. _Don't_ hand her off to some old couple who'll die in a few years-time and leave her alone once again. Keep her with _you_. Keep her _safe_. Protect her. Protect her like you would've protected _Baelfire_."_

A low rumble of a growl emanated from his chest, and he balled his hands into fists and shook his head. The bottle of potion made its way into his hands a moment later, and without a second thought he upturned it and spilled the contents out onto the scarf and bracelet. He stepped back, mindlessly tossing the empty bottle onto the table, and watched as the magic encircled the objects.

Seconds passed, but already they were seconds too long, and he knew they would be staying exactly where they were.

"No, no, no," he muttered under his breath, moving forward and casting a locator spell instead. He wasn't stupid. There was no doubt in his mind that it wouldn't work, but he needed to at least try. When he told her… when he told her, she needed to know that he had done all he could.

But this would never be enough.

Sighing in defeat, he collapsed into a chair and dragged a hand down his tired face. This wasn't him. But, then, when children became involved with the Dark One, a part of him reverted back to Rumplestiltskin. He'd always had a way with children. Bae had been his everything and more, and when he'd let go of his hand, only for him to fall through the portal into a different world, it had shattered his heart and hidden every broken piece in a different place so there was no way of it ever being fixed again.

He supposed the child wouldn't have any qualms about staying in the Dark Castle with him… she had, after all, gone to him for help despite knowing who he was… but would _he_? What would having a child in his life do to _him_? To his image? _Reputation_? Yet he knew that, if his son had not left him, then a child would already _be_ part of his life. What would be the difference? Besides, nobody would ever _dare_ question the Dark One on who he happened to let into what was left of his heart. And nobody even had to know about it. That would, of course, be the best way to protect her.

He wondered if he would be having these thoughts had it _not_ been his fault that her parents were dead.

A childish giggle reached his ears, and he lifted his head the slightest bit to peer outside his window. A mop of red curls was just about visible through the glass, as well as the teddy she was throwing in the air. He rose an eyebrow. Having a little girl in his home instead of a little boy would be something new.

Though, because of her age, he knew she would need someone to care for her. And properly. Not just stick her in a room and hope that she's able to entertain herself. She needed a parent, and it wasn't him. Even if he wasn't constantly away from home, _working_, what could he do? The last time he had had to be a father was over three-hundred years ago.

No, it could never be him.

But, as a thought reached his mind and he sat up straight in his chair… he knew who it _could_ be.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Last chapter of this little story! The sequel will be 'Child of the Darkness'.**

* * *

Belle French didn't know how many days had passed since the imp had locked her in his cell, but she was beginning to grow weary of staring at the same dank wall for days on end, wishing she were anywhere else. It didn't even have to be home. Just… somewhere she could escape, if even for a moment. Breathe the fresh air. Eat something that wasn't _bread_. Sleep on a pillow that wasn't stuffed with straw that poked her throughout the night. Read a _book_.

Truth be told, she had expected more to come from her deal. What use was having her locked away? He had nobody in his house except him. No… help, or cooks, or maids. She could be _useful_!

And so she was fairly surprised when, one morning – or what she thought was the morning. She really didn't have a sense of time anymore – the door to her cell flew open, and she bolted out of the makeshift bed to see Rumplestiltskin stood in its entrance, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed. She immediately stood to her feet and schooled her nervous expression. Perhaps he _wouldn't_ be there to turn her into a frog.

His lips curled into a half-smile as he looked at her, before he beckoned a finger towards him and turned to walk away, knowing she'd follow. Sure enough, probably not willing to risk a chance to get out of the dratted cell for a short while, she scurried after him, the little clicks of her heels echoing throughout the corridors as she briskly followed. Words didn't dare leave her lips, and he was glad for it.

Once they reached the main hall, Rumplestiltskin walked in before spinning around, causing Belle to abruptly stop herself before she crashed into him. He stared down at her before lifting his chin and crossing his arms, tapping his foot on the polished floor. "Children," he said simply.

Belle's eyebrows rose in question. "Um… what about them?"

"Do you like them?"

She clasped her hands in front of her, wondering where on Earth this was coming from. What did he expect from her? "I… I suppose," she replied with a shrug. "I used to read stories to the village children. Why?"

"That-" He immediately turned his body slightly to jab a dark finger in the direction of the far corner of the room. Belle looked, and was astonished to find a small child sat on the floor, quietly speaking to herself and the two toys on her lap- "is a child."

Belle nodded slowly. "Yes, I… can _see _that. Why is there a _child _here? Did you take her from her family?" The words flew from her lips before she could stop them, and she quickly clamped them shut, looking at the sorcerer with a twinge of fear in her blue eyes, but, surprisingly enough, a mere raise of a brow was the only response she got.

"No, _dearie_," he told her, "_she_ came to _me_. Lost her parents to-" He stopped, lips parted but no words flowing from them, and looked at the woman for a second before continuing- "never mind what to. She's staying here."

"Here? With you? For how long?" Her brashness certainly was a force to be reckoned with, she couldn't help but think to herself. Who was _she_ to question _him_? She briefly worried he wouldn't take this as lightly as what she'd said before, because when she flicked her eyes up to meet his they were all but boring into her own, but he soon quenched that by responding… though not to her questions.

"Your job from now on is to look after her."

Belle nodded. "You mean I no longer have to stay in the cell?" She looked at him, hope dancing in her eyes, and the imp narrowed his own.

"No," he said a little reluctantly after a while, "I suppose not."

She couldn't help the small smile of victory at that. Her curiosity had to be fed, else she'd end up boring herself half to death. Her father had done it once before – kept her locked in her room – and what had she done in response to that? Snuck away on a marvellous journey that had almost cost her her life. Multiple times. There likely would have been a similar situation in this instance if she hadn't been let out when she was.

"I thought… when you took me here, you would want me doing jobs around your home… laundry, cooking-"

"Oh, no, _no_, dearie, you'll still be doing all _that_," he rushed to assure her, a snarky smile on his face. "But on top of it, you'll be caring for the child."

Belle turned her head away from him to gaze at the girl again. She had always wished for a child of her own… of course, only when the time was right, and with the right person… but she couldn't see that happening at all in the future. Perhaps looking after this child would satisfy any need for one of her own. "Does she have no other family?" she absently asked, and Rumplestiltskin briefly glanced over his shoulder to look back at her.

"Haven't asked."

"So you're content with her staying here?" She really was not sure where this boldness was coming from, but, somehow, it seemed to make the Dark One struggle for words for perhaps the first time in his life. His raven eyes blinked a few times as his lips opened and closed, arms still crossed loosely over his chest. The corners of her lips turned upwards slightly, and, as though he knew they had, his eyes snapped down to meet hers and he steeled his expression once again.

"I don't need to answer to you!" he all but shouted. "Autumn!"

Belle saw the girl hurriedly put down her toys at the call of her name before she stumbled to her feet and ran up to him, stopping a few inches behind him. Looking as though any touch from her would turn him into a puddle of goo on the floor, Rumplestiltskin turned his head down and motioned towards Belle. "This is your new nanny," he informed her, and Belle rose an eyebrow at her title. "Say hello to Belle."

Autumn – _such_ a beautiful name – stepped forward and glanced shyly up at her. "Hello, Belle," she said.

Belle's rosy lips curled into a warm smile, and she knelt down, taking the small thing's hands into her own. "Hello, Autumn. That's a very pretty name."

The imp rolled his eyes at the pleasantries while Autumn replied. "So's yours. Are you looking after me now? Until Rumplestiltskin finds my mama and papa?"

Belle looked up at him, a questionable gleam in her eye, and the man grimaced before turning away. She glanced back at her and smiled. "I guess I am, sweetheart. Now… why don't you introduce me to your toys over there?" She nodded towards the corner the girl had been playing in, where she knew her teddy and doll still lay. Her eyes lit up immediately and she let go of Belle's hands in favour of brushing past the Dark One and racing over. Belle stood and made to follow but was quickly stopped as a dark hand grasped her forearm and she spun to face him. "What is it?" she asked quietly, eyebrows furrowed.

Rumplestiltskin's face was aloof as he took a step closer, his lips almost touching her ear. "Her parents are dead," he told her, and she abruptly drew back, face a picture of anguish.

"And you haven't _told_ her?" she whispered back just as harshly.

He glanced at Autumn. "I've told her all she needs to know," he said. "That the location spell is taking longer than I expected."

Belle stared at him. "Location spells take only seconds to work." At the raise of his eyebrow, she shrugged. "I read a lot. Anyway… you don't think she _needs_ to know that her mother and father aren't actually _alive_?"

"She is a _child_," he hissed, immediately regretting it when the woman leaned away from him, looking at him with worry glittering in her eyes. He heaved a sigh and released her arm. "I don't wish to harm her more than she already has been." His tone was soft. Softer than it had been, at least, and for a moment Belle believed there was a hint of compassion in those obsidian eyes of his. It quickly disappeared, however, when he noticed she was staring, and he opened his mouth to speak, quickly shutting it when a little blur of red appeared once again at his side, and Belle knelt down to listen to the mindless babble of the child while she showed her her toys.

He immediately turned to walk away, not giving a backwards glance. _"I don't wish to harm her."_ What had _that_ been? He was _not_ that man anymore. Perhaps once, when it had been him and Bae, but his fathering techniques had since left him.

He didn't know how this was going to work out. It had been quite the hasty decision, taking on a child. But then again, so had taking Belle from her family. And both had come together nicely… he supposed. Whatever his feelings on it, though, that fragment of red in his black heart was screaming at him yet again, and, this time, he couldn't help but believe it.

"_It'll work out."_


End file.
